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Twists of Fate  by lovethosehobbits

Disclaimers: None of the characters or places in this story are owned by me (sigh), all rights belong to the Tolkien Estate. No financial compensation was received, only the joy of writing this AU story. Hope you enjoy.

Medical Disclaimers: Medical procedures and cures used in this piece of fiction, are also mostly of a fictitious nature and should not be used at home. Consult a licensed medical professional before being foolish enough to try these on yourself.

Chapter 7: There and Back Again

Frodo was in pain. His head thrummed to the rhythm of his heartbeat and not only did he hurt; he was suddenly seized with the realization that he could not move. Every part of him was restrained and, filled with sudden panic. He lay panting as his eyes darted around the room.

"There's a good lad," came the soft lilt of a familiar voice on his left. He couldn't see who it was because his head was immobilized. Someone placed a cool cloth on his forehead and he relaxed slightly at the blissful caress. "We've been right worried about you, Master Frodo," Bell Gamgee's face swam into view as Frodo blinked, trying to focus. She smiled down at him and ran a finger lightly down the right side of his face. Frodo grimaced and a small gasp escaped his lips as a sudden spasm of pain took him. "There, there Poppet, you're safe here with Mr. Gandalf, Mr. Strider, my Sam and me. We won't let nothin' happen to you," she cooed lightly.

"Momma?” Frodo murmured. Bell, Sam and Strider exchanged confused, then worried glances. Frodo's eyes began to close at the soothing voice.

"No, no not yet, Mr. Frodo. You jes' let us check you out a bit before you go a driftin' on us," Sam's face came into view.

"She...called...me...Poppet," murmured Frodo. "My mother calls me Poppet," he slurred.

"Calls, Mr. Frodo? No offence, sir, but yer mum and da have been, well, er, gone, sir, fer quite some time. Pardon my bein' so bold and all. You must be rememberin' when you was a youngen there, Mr. Frodo," Sam said worriedly. He glanced at Gandalf and Strider.

"But Bilbo, I saw them. They're alive. I was there, and I'm going to go back and live with them. We're going to be together all the time, just like before, and I won't ever be alone again, because they said they'd never leave me again. I felt true happiness I thought I'd never feel that again after you left, but now I do. They're waiting for me." He moved to get up, "I can't keep them waiting, Uncle, I must leave," Frodo finished excitedly.

Sam was stunned into temporary inaction. When he saw that Frodo was trying to rise, he reached out and gently pushed his master back onto the pillows. "Mr.... er, Frodo, dear, you must stay in bed and listen to this good healer or you won't get well. We can't have that, now, can we lad? You just listen to your Uncle, now." Sam said in his best Bilbo imitation. He wept softly as he said the words, frustrated at the fact that his master did not recognize him and wished to leave. "I need you. I won't let you be alone no more. I plan on stayin' by your side until you decide you're sick of me. But you can't go anywhere if you're ill, my boy... I simply won't allow it," Sam said with urgency. Frodo looked up into the wet face of his "Uncle".

"Why are you crying, Uncle? Have I done something wrong?" he asked breathlessly.

"No, no of course not, dear boy. I've just missed you so very much, is all. So you must get well right away so we can go on one of our long walks together," Sam whispered.

"Oh Bilbo," Frodo's voice hitched, "I've been so lost, so empty. I thought I could go on without you, but I've found I need company. Now that my parents are back ..." the sentence drifted off into the quiet room. Frodo looked around him at all of the concerned faces. "They're not here, are they?" he said in a hushed whisper.

" No, Frodo, I'm right sorry, but they aint," Sam murmured. Frodo tried to turn his head so that the tears that fell could go unseen. A small sob escaped his lips. "Oh, I'm so lonely, Bilbo. I thought I would enjoy my peace and solitude, but it's become a burden to me now."

"No more, Frodo. Your Uncle is here now and it's gonna be hard to get rid of 'em," Sam rewet the cloth and placed it over the feverish forehead. "Mr. Strider's here to look after you now. I'll 'jes move over and let him do his examinin', but I'm not goin' far, 'jes over here," he gestured across the bed.

Strider's face came into view. Although the ranger was in need of a shave and a bath, his eyes twinkled with a soft peace. Frodo drew back a little when the large man bent over him. "There, there little one, they call me Strider and I have come from afar to help you. We met earlier, and you were very much the host to offer to let me stay while I attend you. Gandalf and I are old, dear friends. I have relieved the pressure from your head, but you are fighting a bad infection along with your other injuries. I do not believe you will be up and about for sometime yet," he smiled grimly. He reached for the bandaged arm and began to unwind the bloody bandages. The cut was a livid red with streaks running towards Frodo's chest. Frodo hissed in a breath as the gauze caught on the stitches. "I am sorry, Frodo," Strider apologized. He reached for a cloth, dipped it in the sweet smelling athelas and then wrapped the steaming rag around the wound. Frodo sighed. "Mistress Gamgee, would you be so kind to brew some willow tea and let's see if we can lower this fever a bit." His face was a mask of concern as he continued to sponge the cut until the ickor stopped seeping between its edges. Sam brought another pan of cool water and began soaking another cloth for Frodo's forehead. Strider thanked him and placed the rung cloth over the hobbit's eyes and forehead. "Frodo, we are going to bathe you in cool water to try and break your fever."

As the tub filled, Frodo's expression turned to one of alarm and he clutched at his sweaty nightshirt. Strider smiled at the obvious embarrassment of the hobbit. "I am sorry, Frodo, but it is necessary to undress you so that we can bath you. If you prefer, er..Bilbo can assist you and I will step out," he grinned. Frodo gulped and nodded slightly. Strider scooped up some of the athelas leaves Sam had lay by the bedside, walked to the copper tub, and after a few quiet words, crushed the leaves and sprinkled them over the water. The bath gave off the same heady aroma of the water from the basin, and Frodo felt himself begin to relax once again. The ranger came back to the bed and began to loosen the restraints that held Frodo firmly in place. Bell left the room to fix a bite to eat for the men while Sam saw to his Master. Sam placed warm towels by the fire, and wrapped one around the waist of his master to preserve his privacy. Strider then picked up the slight form and brought him to the tub. He held up a towel as Sam helped Frodo to disrobe and slowly lower himself into the water, towel and all. Frodo let out a low, shaky sigh. The simple act of removing his clothing and getting into the bath had exhausted him and he shook violently as chill after chill took him. Strider left Sam to care for Frodo and began stripping the bed. Bell brought clean sheets and soon the bed was remade with fluffy pillows and thick comforters. One of the pillows was cut so that the middle was missing, the sides formed a circle around the middle and were sewn together, leaving a circular opening in the middle to allow Frodo to lie on his back without danger of the tube being touched or jostled. Next, bricks were heated in the coals, wrapped in toweling and placed between the sheets. Sam finished washing Frodo, and with Frodo leaning heavily against him, helped him out of the tub and began drying him. He wrapped him in fluffy towels and a clean nightshirt was lowered over his head. Strider gently picked him up and bore him back to the bed. He laid him down, causing Frodo's face to pale to a pasty yellow. Knowing what was coming he quickly retrieved a basin, which Frodo threw up in, then slowly lowered him to the pillows.

"I am sorry, little one, I should not have moved you so suddenly," he whispered, as he gently wiped perspiration from the hobbit's face.

"Mr. Frodo, I've brought you some soup and tea with biscuits, sir. You haven't eaten naught all day. Perhaps this will settle your stomach some," said Bell encouragingly. At the mention of food Frodo blanched, once again. Large blue eyes moved desperately to the ranger, who again, placed the basin under his chin. He vomited repeatedly, until he was reduced to dry heaves, his whole body shuddered uncontrollably. Strider carefully eased him back down and washed his face with the cool athelas water. He brought a cup of cool water to the hobbit's mouth. Frodo grasped the cup with shaking hands and began to gulp the cool liquid.

"Easy, Frodo. No gulping, little one," said the ranger murmured, as he pulled the cup away. He was met with a pathetic whimper, and gently pressed the cup back to the small one's mouth. Frodo slowly sipped the water until the cup was empty, and then Strider gently lowered him back onto the specially made pillow. Frodo sighed contentedly.

Undeterred, Bell slowly began spooning a trickle of the tea between his lips. Every other spoonful was chicken broth. Frodo moaned in discomfort at the taste, but managed to keep the food down. "There, there sir. You need your nourishment to keep up your strength. 'Just a little more," but after only half a cup of broth, Frodo had had enough and turned away. Bell tsked lightly. She had slightly better luck with the willow tea, which was heavily sweetened with honey, managing to get most of it down the sick lad.

Gandalf came slowly into the room. "Well, well, Master Baggins, it is so good to see you up and about," the wizard said. Frodo slowly turned his head, and smiled up at the wizard.

"Gandalf! What a pleasant surprise. How long have you been here?" Frodo smiled. But the smile began to slowly fade as the blue eyes glazed over and rolled up into his head. He arched his back violently and his body began to buck up and down, his arms flailing. Strider grabbed to secure his head, making sure the tube was not pushed further in. He held Frodo's head in his lap, firmly, while Bell, Sam and Gandalf placed pillows about the writhing hobbit. They knew they could not stop the seizure, but sought only to prevent any further harm the lad might do to himself. Slowly, the tremors subsided until Frodo was spent and sagged with a last gasp, down into the bedding.

************************************************************************

He had been speaking with Gandalf, but now he was sitting next to his mother as she chided softly at him for not eating.

"You really are too thin, Frodo dear. This Bell seems nice enough and could surely help fatten you up a bit," she said worriedly.

"Now Prim, you know he's from Fallohide stock and it's not the least bit unnatural for him to be a bit willowy. I was that way myself when I was but a lad and you loved me all the more, as I recall," Drogo commented with a smile.

"Frodo, Frodo Baggins. Come back to us. You do not belong there. You belong with the living." It was Gandalf. Frodo could just make him out sitting on the other side of his mother.

"Gandalf? Why are you here?" Frodo whispered.

"To bring you home, dear boy, to those who love you and who would miss you desperately. You are needed at Bag End, Frodo. Come home, lad, come home to all of us," the wizard pleaded.

"He's right, Frodo. You can no longer journey between the plains of existence. You must choose where you will alight. And you belong in the world of the living, not here, not yet, my boy," Drogo said. "I love you, son, but now is not the time for you to join your mother and me. You must leave," he said forcefully.

Suddenly Frodo found that he and Gandalf were standing on one side of a small stream, his parents on the other side. His mother and father waved slowly at him, then turned and walked away. He had no recollection of how he had got there or of where the stream had come from; he only knew that now he was separated from those he loved. The stream gradually became wider and wider until a roaring river now took its place. He raced up and down the bank; looking for a place he could cross, while Gandalf stood watching him in pity.

"No, I want to be with them. It's not fair. I am ready to go. There is nothing back there for me now, please wait for me, please," Frodo begged, tears flowing down his face.

"I'm sorry, my sweet lad, but it's for your own good," he heard Drogo say in a far away voice. A sharp pain began to resonate through Frodo's forehead. He clutched his head and cried out in surprise. He fell beside the river, weeping both in loss and pain, finally losing consciousness. When next he opened his eyes, he lay on a bed, surrounded by the concerned faces of Sam, Bell, Strider and Gandalf. Their faces were grim as they tried to stop his thrashing arms and legs as the last tremors of the convulsion wracked his body. Strider turned him to the side as he retched violently. At last the seizure ended and he was eased over onto his back. His face was pale as alabaster and cold sweat sat upon his upper lip.

"What happened?" he croaked out.

"You had a seizure, Frodo. You have a very high fever, and I fear the tube may be pressing against your brain. I will adjust it now; perhaps that will prevent this from happening again," Strider said gently. He unwound the gauze and gently moved the tube out of the opening in the skull a fraction of an inch. It continued to drain a thick, viscous fluid. He cleaned around the wound with warm athelas water, packed it with bandages soaked in the athelas mixture, placing these as he would a poultice to absorb and draw out the extra fluid. Then he packed the wound once again in dry bandages. He placed pillows all around Frodo's body in case there was another seizure. "We must break this fever. Bell we will need another bath, this one with water that is just warm enough to keep Frodo from going into shock. Is there ice to be found anywhere in Hobbiton?" he asked.

"Mr. Bilbo always had ice in his cellar for his meats. Sam, go see if Mr. Bilbo's got ice downstairs. If he does, see if you can't bring a brick of it up to cool Mr. Frodo," Bell said with a note of urgency.

"Yes 'um," Sam said as he ran from the room. There was ice, two large bricks. He grabbed the metal tongs hanging by the doorway and hefted a block over his shoulder. He then quickly made his way back up the stairs and into Frodo's sick room. A bath had been drawn in his absence.

When Sam arrived, Gandalf and he began to chip away at the block, creating a small pile of smaller chunks of ice for the bath. Strider quickly stripped Frodo, not standing on ceremony this time. He lifted the small, quivering body and placed him in the tub. Frodo gasped as the lukewarm water engulfed him. "We mustn't let him become too chilled, but we have to lower his temperature or he could have more seizures," Strider ordered. The ice was added gradually to the bath water, surrounding the injured hobbit. Frodo's teeth began to chatter as he was layered in the ice. It felt incredibly wonderful to the fevered hobbit, and Frodo began to drift as drowsiness overcame him.

"Please...just let me go. I want to be with my mum and da. Bilbo, I'm sorry, but I don't want to live anymore...just let me go," he murmured.

"That is *not* an option, young hobbit. I will not let you die on me and you will *not* give up, do you hear me?" Strider grasped Frodo's shoulders and looked deep into the large, blue eyes. Frodo began to cry.

"I am so tired. They are all gone and I am alone. Please...please, let me sleep..sleep my last sleep," he slurred and began to drift off.

"He's had enough. He's becoming hypothermic," said the ranger. He lifted the hobbit from the tub and bore him to the bed. They redressed him in a clean nightshirt and covered him in a light quilt. "You will not give up on me," Strider said forcefully. "I will not let you, Frodo Baggins," he said with a light shake. "Stay with us, little one," he said as padded the slight form with pillows.

The ranger was a bit scary to the diminutive Sam, and he feared he would throttle his master, listening to the tone of Strider's voice. "Mr. Strider. Please don't hurt him, please," Sam was crying.

Strider smiled at the small gardener. "You must tell him how much you care for him, Sam or he will give up. Do not let my size and the way I speak frighten you as my bark is far worse than my bite," the ranger smiled encouragingly at the hobbit.

Sam allowed a small, worried smile at the man, and then turned to his master. "Mr. Frodo, if you was to die I don't think I'd want to live no more, sir. Please try for your Sam. I'll stay with you. You won't be lonely no more, Master, not with your Sam to do for ya. I'll fix your meals and keep the house clean as a pin, I will, only please don't leave me, Mr. Frodo, sir, please!" Sam broke down and lay his head on Frodo's bedside. Frodo slipped his hand into Sam's curly hair. " There, there Ssam. Don' cry. I dinnt... mean it. I'll try to sstay, but Ssam... I don' wan' to be a burren to you. You're my dea' frenn. You half your own liffe to think of downn the roaa'... you donn wann' to half to see affer an ol' bach'lor li' me awl your dayss, do you?" Frodo slurred.

"Yes, Mr. Frodo, that's jes' what I wants. To sit here and listen to your stories while we smoke our pipes. To take care of the garden that my father taught me on and make sure you aint lonely, sir," Sam whispered back. It was not lost on the small gardener that Frodo had called him Sam for the first time that day and not Bilbo. This cheered the hobbit greatly.

"Oh, Ssam,... you arre... a marvel. Wha' would I do... withou' my... Ssam?" The pale face broke into a weak grin and Sam smiled back.

"Probably starve to death, I reckon," he grinned.

"Yess, probbly. Awl righ',... Ssam, I'll try... my bess'... to stay pu'. I am... a verr' lucky hobbit... to half ssush a frenn... ass you,... Ssamwiss Gamshe," Frodo slurred as he slowly closed his eyes. A small smile played over his lips as he lost consciousness.

To be continued…

And now a note for those of you who were kind enough to leave a review..

Willofthering - Thank you so much, I hope you will continue to enjoy the story.
InsanelyObsessed - The story is alot like Ariel's only I would never presume to be that good! She's one of my favorite authors (authoress's??) as well. I would never kill Frodo. I personally, don't like death fics. It's hard enough for me to read fics about him leaving Sam behind to go to the Undying Lands, LOL. Not sure yet how long this story will run. Probably not nearly as long as Smoke and Mirrors or Phantasm (I assume). Thanks, as always, for reviewing.

Lindahoyland - So glad you've come on board!! You are rapidly becoming one of my number one reviewers, in that you generally are always the first to review and you seem to like all of my fics. Thanks so much.

JesusFreak - Frodo is gradually recovering. He will become more and more aware. And stay tuned, another character is about to enter the story line.





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